


Baby Talk

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Lestrade, Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Fluff, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Omega John, Omega Mycroft, POV First Person, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:27:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is hesitant about having children and has been his whole life. Now, he's three years into his marriage with Greg Lestrade, and the dreaded Baby Discussion has reared it's ugly head...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby Talk

Lately, Gregory has begun to pester me more about having children.  

It started as jokes here and there, became comments, and, recently, developed into disputes.

“I’m not saying I can’t be happy with you if we don’t have kids!” He tells me, towards the less stormy end of one of several arguments we had regarding the subject of children, “I just want you to give it some serious thought.”

 

 What is there to think seriously about, I wondered?

I avoided bonding for years, with Mummy harassing me about it at every turn, because I didn’t want the classic Omega existence of nearly endless gravidity.  I wanted to go to university. I wanted to expand my horizons. I wanted the freedom and control over my life that the Omega Rights Movement, a few years prior to my birth, fought to allow.

 Mummy’s untimely passing was almost a blessing, because I was able to complete my education without any of her further underhanded attempts to remove me from the institution.

The only one constantly chastising me about “continuing the Holmes line” was my conscience when the guilt, the likelihood that Sherlock would never bond, and memory of Mummy’s voice began to plague me.

I silently fluctuated, between desperately wanting to have a child and angrily rejecting the very idea of my fertility, for many years before John Watson.

I’m ashamed to admit that I was quite resentful of the doctor upon first meeting him. While it pains Sherlock enough to deny it, the one thing I’ve wanted, beyond control or freedom, was my little brother’s love, and it’s always been the one thing he’s withheld from me above all else, the one thing he knows I can’t take from him against his will.

Dr. John Watson seemed to obtain it almost effortlessly and spontaneously.

After my brother’s return from “death”, Dr. Watson became his bonded mate (ensuring Sherlock would not leave him again). John became pregnant with Hamish within their first year as bonded mates. It was a shock to me that Sherlock took so well to the actuality of John’s pregnancy. He was excited, happy, proud, even in my company.  It was odd, if nothing else, to watch the Alpha who had sneered at the very idea of bonding, let alone that of copulation, holding his newborn child.

John was in labor nearly fifty hours and Sherlock had stayed at his side through the entirety of it. When I walked in their hospital room, I noticed Sherlock sitting in a chair next to the bed where John was taking a well earned rest and I nearly gasped. He was wearing pale green hospital scrubs, his bright eyes wet with tears, glossy snot traveled from his nose and pooled in his philtrum, his hair more disastrous than usual,  he was grinning genuinely,  from ear to ear, at little beet faced Hamish bundled in his arms. I remember thinking I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

At that point, I realized, all was right with the world. My little brother was home, safe, and happier than I’d ever seen him. John Watson has forgiven me for protecting Sherlock’s lie, and makes constant efforts to welcome me with open arms into the family he and Sherlock are creating together. Greatest of all, he’d given me the gift of Hamish, an heir to the Holmes line, freedom from a lifelong internal struggle with myself.

 I’d even managed to capture a bit of happiness for myself. During the time Sherlock was “dead”, Gregory and I had found one another in our shared self-condemnation. At first, we were merely clinging to one another. However, in short time, Gregory and I found something in each other we never expected. _I_ never expected.

I imagined having the kind of courtship that involved a physical contract, like my parent’s relationship. I imagined lawyers negotiating every interaction. I never thought of wanting to be held, with hugs, or after a nightmare. I never imagined the soft kisses Gregory likes to give me, or those kind of hungry looks directed at me. I never imagined sex was capable of being so tender and loving that by the time I’d come there’d be tears in my eyes, or of having a partner so attentive and committed to pleasing me that I’d feel _worshipped_. It is nearly three years since we said our vows, and we both have never been more in love with each other.

 

Why do we need to have children when everything is so splendid as is?

 

 I asked this of Gregory one evening when I could feel his patience with my decision-making on the subject of having children waning.

Gregory sighed. “We don’t _have_ to have children, love. I _want_ a child with you _because_ everything is marvelous.”

I considered this, as Gregory continued to prepare us dinner (which he insist on doing every so often, despite the existence of my very capable, very well compensated chef- not that I’m complaining).

 “Perhaps we could hire a surrogate.” I said to the remaining wine in my glass.

Gregory scoffed. “No, you know I want to do it the natural way. I want to _mate_ with _you_ ,” he placed a plate in front of me, “It’s more fun that way.” He offered a wink.

“You are mistaken if you’re imagining that pregnancy will suit me as it did John Watson.” I told Gregory, staring at my empty plate to avoid whatever Gregory’s initial reaction would be, but I could still feel his eyes suddenly upon me. 

Dr. Watson was in fine form while pregnant. Gregory constantly remarked on how “adorable” the doctor had become. Even in my presence, Sherlock couldn’t keep his hands off of John.

“It’s the hormones,” John had whispered to me (“one Omega to another” he’d giggled) after I came back from quick work call in their kitchen to find Sherlock sucking his neck while pressing him into the couch. Sherlock had immediately fled to Hamish’s nursery, where he was putting together the crib.

“He’s never wanted me so bad and…” John blushed rather furiously, “I’ve never been up for it so often.”

But that wasn’t it, was it? I couldn’t help but notice the baby weight enhanced John’s overall appeal- whatever it was that made John so… _John_. 

Sherlock had taken a photo during John’s pregnancy, one that he went through the trouble of getting processed and printed. He was so infatuated with the image of John, he shared the photo with Gregory, who described it to me fondly. I eventually saw the actual photo sitting on their shared desk at 221B. John seemed absolutely abashed when he noticed me peeking at it. In the photograph, John was standing in their bathroom, in just red pants, blushing and laughing as he looked down at his protruding belly, attempting to bring measuring tape around his waist. He was just at eight months pregnant and looked stunningly handsome.

 

Gregory was suddenly at my side, gently rubbing his nose into my neck, scenting me. He kissed my cheek tenderly. He offered me a serious face.“Is that why you don’t want to have a baby? Cause’ you’ll gain weight?”

I finally looked him in the eye and sighed. “Of course not. I mean, certainly, I’ll look like a beached whale, …,” The act of impregnating me would be the last time Gregory would fuck me, outside of pity attempts (because Gregory is far too good of a person not to), “but that’s not my only concern.”

Gregory’s face suddenly became very sad. “Do you really think that, love? You have to know that’s not true. I’m sure you’d look _gorgeous_.”

I sighed, suddenly unable to look at Gregory. “It’s not just the weight gain. I’ll be gassy, I’ll lose control of my bladder, and be dripping with all sorts of fluids. The whole while I’ll also be emotional and hornier than ever. I’ll want you near me and yet I won’t be able to control how cruelly I’ll treat you.”

“Everyone experiences that stuff when they’re pregnant, Myc.” Gregory said, offering me a weak smile (and using his nick name for me- unfair!).

“Yes. Everyone experiences it. But…” I stop short of uttering the truth. Gregory raises his eyebrows, looking for me to continue. I feel my cheeks warm a bit.

“No one would ever describe me as _adorable_!” I finally utter. “…I’ll be monstrous, Gregory. I’m afraid it… it will be too much for you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the beeping of the oven.

He rose from where he was sitting next to me at the table and rushed to the stove. I sat waiting for him, going to my wine twice, only to be reminded that I’d already finished it off.  He returned and filled both our plates with the parmesan crusted chicken and sides he’d prepared.

“It smells delicious.” I commented as he refilled my wine.

Gregory offered a quick smile in thanks (still a bit sad), as he took his seat. We ate in near silence, speaking only to comment on the meal (delectable).  I was thankful when we both decided to head right to bed after dinner.

 

Gregory snuggled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist and planted gentle kisses to the back of my neck.  

“Gregory… I’m not exactly ‘in the mood’.”

“You’re adorable.” He sighed against my skin.

I felt my cheeks warm.

“I’ve never told you that?” He whispered, his lips brushing my ear.

“Gregory…”

“You really are. These freckles, “ and he brought the neck of my silk pajamas down to reveal my shoulder and gently pressed his lips to my skin, “I can’t get over them. God,  If you’ll have our baby, I hope they have your fair skin.”

I turned enough to see him in the corner of my eye. “You’d…you’d want our  baby to look like _me_?”

Gregory sat up and peered at me. “Myc. Your auburn hair. Your gorgeous eyes. Your nose. Your soft lips…” he kissed me, “…I’m crazy about you, love.”

I sat up, and turned to face him. “Is that why you _want_ to have a baby all of a sudden?”

Gregory bit his lip and looked in my eyes. He sighed. “I saw how much Hamish resembled Sherlock and figured the genes must be pretty strong on your side. The idea that you could give me a baby that looks like you… I couldn’t get it out of my head. ”

“…Oh.” Was all I could manage.

It was certainly true that Hamish is becoming the spitting image of Sherlock. He has the same fair skin,  piercing eyes, and dark hair (although, his texture is growing in more similar to John’s). I almost expected John to be a bit resentful that their child didn’t resemble him more. I imagine it’s quite difficult to carry a child to term, do all “the work”, and have the child look almost nothing like you.

Holmes are not known for being attractive. It’s my theory that Holmes developed such intelligence to supplement our lack of physical allure in order to compete with other Alphas. Even Sherlock’s beauty is the kind that requires further examination to be apparent. Sherlock and I exist only because even ugly people can’t resist the urges of heats (no doubt the reason Mummy was so insistent  that I’d marry an Alpha). I never once heard Father or Mummy compliment one another’s appearance, certainly never mine or Sherlock’s. I spent nearly every summer of my youth in expensive ‘fat camps’, and most of my teen years on a variety of diets, trying hopelessly to become the child Mummy wanted. 

It was truly shocking when Grey Fox Gregory (as Anthea and I called him during our “gossiping”, prior to the beginning of our current romantic relationship, when I was just a lonely fool with a hopeless crush) revealed he found _me_ attractive. John looked at Sherlock with stars in his eyes the first day they met.

 However,  it still amazed me that John seems absolutely infatuated with the resemblance. 

“It’s like I have a little Sherlock that I can cuddle in my arms whenever I want.” He sang fondly, clutching Hamish to his chest possessively, while the child squirmed and giggled in his arms,  during one of Gregory and my recent visits.

 

 “You… you want a miniature… me?” I asked again, surprised at the unsteadiness of my own voice.

As Gregory sighed, his body relaxed as if he melted  into me, and a warm smile grew on his lips, and reached his eyes.

“Absolutely.” His voice nearly a whisper.

I felt the heat return to my face, neck, and ears. I considered it, slowly tilting my head from one side to the other, as if to physically bounce the idea around in my head. 

What if the child doesn’t look like me? I wondered.

The image appeared in my mind of a tanned skin, dark haired child looking up at me with large brown eyes, following me around, calling me ‘Mummy!’, offering me cheeky little grins.

 

I suddenly had to focus on breathing.

 

“You..,” I sighed, returning my attention to Gregory, “you really think I would be _gorgeous_ while pregnant?”

Gregory’s smile was radiant. “No doubt in my mind, love.”

I huffed, defeated, but couldn’t suppress my own small smile.

“Alright.” I said.

“…Alright?” Gregory, asked hesitantly, but with a grin.

“Let’s have a baby.”

Gregory’s eyes began to glisten with moisture.

“Now, the real fun begins.” He giggled, blinking back tears.

“I can hardly wait.” I laughed, content.

“We don’t have to, you know. The best way to bring on your heat is a healthy dose of rough sex.”

I offered Gregory a toothy grin. “Ah, I see. So this was your real intentions all along. This whole baby discussion we’ve been having for the past several months was just a rouse to get me to allow you to ‘pound’ me into the mattress.”

Gregory chuckled and crawled on top of me.  “I’ve never needed clever tricks to get you to loosen up in bed, Myc.”

I spread my legs leisurely and let him sink in closer to me.

“No, I suppose you haven’t.”  I murmured, as our lips met.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is is the first fanfic I've ever shared on AO3. Mystrade is my favorite pairing. I find the idea of the omegaverse really fascinating, but I also wanted things to sound natural, with the dialogue and the way Mycroft is telling his story. I hope you enjoyed this fic, even if it's not typical of fic in the omegaverse. I might add to this fic in the future. I've already written some of it, I'm just not sure if it's sounding the way this one does. We shall see! Thanks again.


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